And Fools Shine On
by Fire Lord Azula
Summary: Only a fool seeks her own destruction... Katara would allow herself to be irrational, just this once. She could always turn back... right? When you play with fire, you get burned. There's something to that old saying, after all. [ Azutara, oneshot. ]


**Disclaimer:** I make no claim on the characters of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. They belong solely to their creators, and I garner no profit from their usage.

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Katara didn't know what drew her to the Princess of Fire, or even _when_ the attraction manifested itself into the deepest recesses of her mind, nagging and prodding and tenacious in its persistence until the Waterbender caved and abandoned her beloved comrades in favor of her own demise.

So many factors played into it, the process of narrowing it down to singularity was painstaking.

The physical aspects were undeniable. The subject of her attractions had in her possession a striking appearance – her features were sharp; feral, even. Not one strand of supple black hair deviated from its tightly-pulled topknot, and what was left loose framed her face in banged form, bringing to attention the paleness of her skin. For living in such a warm climate, she was curiously light in coloration... and this intrigued Katara to no end, bearing in mind her own tanned skin, of which she found the norm'.

And the clothes the Princess wore, to be blunt, left _too much_ to the imagination. They were loose-fitted to the point of being baggy, particularly in the sleeves and trouser legs. The design and overall presentation struck Katara as oddly masculine, considering such a normally "frilly" title, but it doubtlessly suited the girl in question. Though, in an altogether different sense, it was annoying... as Katara found herself daydreaming of what lay beneath those many layers of protective clothing, with little to fuel her fantasies.

_Just a glimpse of skin would be nice_, she caught herself thinking with a self-chastising gasp.

Perhaps it was the draconic eyes that drew her in. Oh, Katara could _lose_ herself in that gaze. Magnetic; exotic; _cruel_. The eyes of a killer. Something about that fact made the Waterbender surrender in an act of reckless abandon: she'd deny herself food, drink, rest, and _life itself_ to lose her reflection in twin pools of unwavering amber.

The most likely explanation for this loss of self-control? Azula's stare was the only part of her that didn't _lie_. It bared the truth, always. Her voice could adapt any tone; her words could be sweetened with the most virgin of cane sugar; her actions could belie and detract from the most iniquitous plot but the one thing she could _never_ disguise was the look of unquenchable bloodlust in her own eyes.

Such a stark contrast in this human representation of _deception_ drew Katara to her like a moth to a flame – _how ironic_ – and forsake her own safety; her own well-being, to plunge herself headlong into the insatiable inferno that was Princess Azula and be consumed in her absolution. The heir to the Nation of Fire would kill her – oh, that much was certain. But she was in too deep. Down the path of no return did she march without so much as a glance back at her old life... the life that called to her with futility, begging for her reconsideration; for her rationality.

Now _that_ was an interesting concept. Azula had the ability to appeal to your rationality... then, with a few carefully crafted words (_"practice makes perfect"_), would cause you to throw aside everything you ever stood for in favor of prospects too good to be true – and you _knew_ they weren't true, _but you didn't care anymore_ – leaving you latching onto her every word in vain idealization that, for once, she wasn't lying bold-faced to you.

Oh, yes. That, coupled with those strangely readable eyes, reeled Katara in. She was sure of it now.

Worse yet, Azula was conscious of the longing directed her way. The Waterbender was being played much like a finely-tuned instrument, at the beck and call of her master. In opposition to such a craft, Katara was conscious of this blatant manipulation – and, against her better judgment, found herself _not caring_.

The normally headstrong girl of the Southern Water Tribe would allow herself a momentary lapse of control, just to gaze into the eyes of the Fire Nation Princess: the killer of the Avatar; her once-hated adversary. The eyes that held such plain, unadulterated _truth_ within a tangled web of lies.

Fascination. That's what it was.

Because Azula was a walking, talking _contradiction_ at her core. And nothing is – was? – more entrancing to Katara than the coldhearted Firebender, who, in her consistent show of regality, actually toed the line of savagery... all the while maintaining an air of detachment that was strangely alluring.

Did Azula mean to be so captivating? She was.

In all other instances, Fire and Water repel. More to the point, they _consume_ each other in a battle of wills, fighting to extinguish the other in a plume of heated steam. Katara imagined her future relationship with the Fire Princess to follow along those lines...

...and, for all her confidence in her abilities ( earned through blood, sweat, and tears, to be sure ), she just _couldn't_ picture herself the victor.

Fire would dominate; move on to its next victim. ...Or would it? Perhaps Water would weaken it enough to make it reconsider its path of carnage. At this point, it was all the Waterbender could hope for. Yes, she would regain her control; perhaps become the Fire Master's equal of sorts. She'd pry herself from that molten gaze... she'd _have_ to, if she wanted to survive.

Survival. For the longest time, she had been existing. Now, she was truly _living_.

Azula would make her _live_ before she would make her _die_.


End file.
